


Dave: Chart the alien landscape

by CurlicueCal



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, First Time, M/M, Multi, PWP, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-23
Updated: 2014-11-23
Packaged: 2018-02-26 14:09:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2654882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CurlicueCal/pseuds/CurlicueCal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Uh, I think your boobs just hissed at me.”<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Dave: Chart the alien landscape

**Author's Note:**

> I had a conversation about hissing cockroaches and somehow this led to porn. :|  
> I have no flipping clue what I'm doing. But I can never resist the urge to watch Dave flail.

“Uh, I think your boobs just hissed at me.”

You regret saying anything almost immediately, because it makes Terezi pull away (no, soft sexy wonderful _bare_ , come back) and Karkat lifts his mouth from the back of your neck, claws digging tighter into your shoulders. The noise cuts out, too, and really, it wasn’t a _bad_ noise, not even a hiss exactly, more like a rattly cicada buzz or a really sexy lawnmower maybe. You could be so totally into it if your brain weren’t still stuck on _what the fuck?_ Because, hello, you finally got your alien girlfriend’s shirt off and porn has not adequately prepared you to deal with the probability that her boobs just _hissed at you_.

“Problem, coolkid?” Terezi’s voice is a little breathy but she grins cockily up at you, all sharp teeth and dark spider-tendrils of hair, her blind red gaze slitted and knowing like she can see right through your skull. She wiggles beneath you and nope, no, no problems here, no ma’am, the Dave-machine is completely on board with this alien love-ride, tickets are punched, engines are at full throttle, love rocket is on the platform and ready for take-off, and you are not at all concerned about the vaguely threatening alien boobs.

“Then shut the fuck up already,” Karkat growls into your ear because apparently your inner monologue is dumping straight to audio track. His breath gusts hot and ticklish across your skin and you shiver and yelp out a laugh, startled and on the giddy edge of hysterical. He nips you for your trouble. Sharp points of teeth dig into your earlobe; the lightning flash of sensation crawls down your spine and shoots straight to your dick. You shudder again. Your back arches, pressing you forward into Terezi who cackles and pulls you down. Her arms slide around you, locking you close so she can bite at Karkat’s lips over your shoulder.

You’re pretty okay with this. For one thing, you can feel every little sigh and shiver and grumble as Karkat squirms against your back, fighting to get into the optimal position for the full-contact tongue-wrestling going down with you sandwiched in between. For another, you have Terezi under you, her skin grey and silky and cool everywhere you touch, which isn’t nearly enough places because for some reason you and Karkat still have all your clothes on.

Fuck that.

You elbow him back, ignoring the possessive way he snarls and hangs onto Terezi tighter (holds you harder) as you clear enough space to go for the hem of your shirt. “Don’t have a cow, Karkaroni, just taking this rodeo up a notch. Time for the next bronco act, bareback alien pony wrangling, let’s go, c’mon, cowboy, get your shirt off.”

Karkat sputters and tenses behind you but you don’t have time to find that cute because you’ve gotten tangled in your own damn shirt and Terezi is laughing at you. Her hands dart in to take advantage, talented fingers skittering along your vulnerable sides and over your ribs before finally deigning to assist you with your cloth confinement.

“The court approves of this human-snuggle-rodeo!” she crows, yanking your shirt over your head. She snitches your shades while she’s at it. Whoa, hey. “All parties must surrender their upper thoracic garments to the proper authority forthwith.”

“Like I’d trust your grabby-claws with anything I own,” Karkat says, but his voice sounds muffled and seconds later a black shirt goes flying across the room.

You’re still blinking stupidly in a sort of ‘ _holy shit I’m half-naked and surrounded by aliens’_ stupor, but at this point your brain reminds you urgently that _they’re both half-naked, too._ (Your dick has been firmly stuck at _hell fucking yes_ since Karkat backed you into Terezi’s room and kissed you.) You don’t hesitate, just sit up the rest of the way and lean back into him, feel the ridges high on his chest pressed into your shoulder blades, the smooth heat of his skin so much warmer than Terezi’s hands on your sides, her hips between your legs. Nothing between you now and Karkat’s fingers work convulsively on your shoulders, his breath catches and stutters and his chin dips down to dig into the flesh at the crook of your neck. You flash a wild smile down to Terezi who grins right back like a hungry crocodile.

“Legislacerator, I believe the defendant is in contempt of court.”

“Oh-ho! Mr. Strider, that is very serious charge. How does the defendant plead?”

“Fuck you, you’re fucking right I’m in contempt; I have nothing but contempt for this entire pan-scramblingly stupid catastrophe of an idea and the both of you snickering assturds and, Strider, where the fuck are your rumblespheres, you freakish alien disaster?”

His thumb jabs at your nipple like it has personally offended him, claw scraping over flesh and, agh, sensitive, weird. You twist and bat his hand away, even as something squirms low and hot in your gut. “My what, now?”

Terezi slides her hands up your sides, thumbing along the lower border of your pecs before winging out and down along your arms. She trap your wrists in cages of fingers, pulls your hands down to her naked flesh beneath you.   ”These, coolkid.”

Oh. Oh.

You’re touching Terezi’s (alien) (not-quite-actually) breasts. (Not breasts.) (Rumblespheres, and how the hell are you supposed to take sex seriously when all their body parts sound like a junior high kid put a dictionary through a blender.) They’re not doing anything alien or disconcerting now, they’re just soft and full and _in your hands,_ and when you run your thumbs testingly up the lower curves Terezi bites her lip and rolls her head back into the mattress.

Karkat makes a low noise behind you.

You suck in an unsteady breath and try very hard not to add any embarrassing noises of your own. Terezi’s— _breasts,_ you’re going with breasts, boobs, tits, beamers, bazoongas, bahama mamas, milksicles—wait, no, not that last one—her breasts fit perfectly in your palms, rounded swells of flesh, the tops gently ridged with overlapping chitinous plates, but soft and giving and oh-so-perfect along the sides and below. Two teal crescents of flesh trace the curved lower boundaries, tucked right below the border of your thumbs, a few inches above her first grub scars. Not just lines, you think, but slits, like the prettiest knife wounds you ever saw, and you don’t know what to do with that thought; you don’t know what to do about anything right now, but Terezi’s wiggling again, pressing restlessly up into your hands, and Karkat’s grumbling into your neck and crowding you forward.

“Right, oh, I, ah—“ You knead into the soft part of her breasts on autopilot, watch her arch again into the touch (your touch, you did that) and your brain just kind of stops. You can feel her breath humming under the fine skin beneath your fingertips, feel each fluttery uneven catch of pleasure. You stroke up across the tops of her breasts, run the pads of your fingers over that strange alien plating, where it’s smooth and only slightly yielding. It reminds you of a snake belly. You trace a nail down across the chitin ridges, bumping along the line of plates to where it tapers to a point about the width of your finger. If you squint you can kind of pretend it’s like a nipple. On a fucking _lizard monster,_ and oh god, you want her so much and you have no fucking clue what you’re doing and you have never been more uncool or unsure than this moment but there are breasts in your hands and hungry bodies beneath and behind you and if you can’t have this you think you will _die_.

Karkat’s head has turned in the crook of your shoulder, and you’re suddenly very aware of his eyes on you, watching your face intently, his claws tracing idle patterns over the muscles of your stomach. Terezi slits her blind eyes and licks at her lips, rests the point of her tongue on plush dark flesh below as she draws air across it. Scenting you.

You flush, a slow wave of heat crawling from your toes up to your ears.

“I, ah—yeah.” What were you even talking about? Right, Karkat’s weird fixation on alien boobs and your lack thereof. “I don’t have those.” Wow, great, Dave, you’re pretty sure they’ve noticed. This is probably one of the most stupidly obvious statements you have ever made. Wait, does Karkat--?

A claw drags a delicate line under your pectoral muscle. Karkat’s thumb rubs over your nipple. “You’ve got these creepy flesh nubs; don’t they do anything?”

You don’t quite catch the squeak in your throat.

Terezi’s grin widens, like cat who’s just spotted dinner, but Karkat frowns and goes, “huh,” and pokes your nipple again. He scowls more darkly when you don’t repeat the noise and thumbs at your nipple repeatedly.

You bite the inside of your lip. “H-hey, now—“

Terezi’s hand tangles in your hair, hauls you down, pulls you close, and you go willingly. You’re close enough to kiss, but she turns her head and scents along your cheek, millimeters away, nuzzling back to your ear where she draws in a long breath. “You smell like fizzy strawberries, coolkid,” she says, and licks your cheek.

The blush takes over your face, heat like a flame running over your cheeks and down your neck, spreading out across your chest where Karkat’s thumb is still working back and forth across your nipple, the pressure regular and rhythmic in a way that sends strange pulses shooting through you. You squirm, and Terezi’s hand in your hair is a sweet, sharp tug in counterpoint, denying you escape, capturing you perfectly, and oh, oh, fuck.

You squeeze your fingers gently into her breasts in time with Karkat’s motion and start talking just so you won’t make any more embarrassing noises. “Wow, okay, I don’t know what you think is going to happen there, Karkles, but you are milking the wrong heifer, buddy, the farmer is in entirely the wrong pasture, the bull has no idea what the shit is going on, the dairy is broke and going broker.” You blink helplessly. You have lost control of this metaphor. “Tugging that teat is not going to get you any cream is what I’m saying.”

“ _Aurggh_.” Karkat recoils from you fast enough to make the bed squeak. “Please tell me you are not going to mammal _lactate,_ holy shit, I need to acid-sterilize my fucking hand-fronds.”

“Uh, no, pay attention, Karkles, what did I just say.” You tuck your head into Terezi’s neck, trying to catch your breath, regain your cool. “My manly chest buttons are strictly decorative.”

“Aw, really?” Terezi says, and snakes her hands down in a flash to tweak both your nipples.

You bite her in retribution and not at all to stifle an unmasculine yelp.

Terezi hums and growls a throaty noise, clawing lightly along your chest, tracing the edges of muscle where years of daily swordwork has granted you the beginnings of definition. You remember you have her own not-actually-nipples close to hand, so to speak. You launch a strategic counter-assault. The goal is for somebody else in this room to be more stupidly aroused than you.

Except Terezi doesn’t even pretend to hide any of her noises and you pretty quickly forget anything but the need to get more of those sounds from her, map the curves of her breasts and the planes of her chest and find all the places that make her eyelids flutter and her head tilt back. You try your nails, dragging hard, and then harder, raising pale lines on grey skin as Terezi presses up into your hands and Karkat creeps back in behind you. He’s wildfire heat at your shoulder, a feral presence, all edgy and hungry and intent. Flashing back to some of the maneuvers they used on you, you slide your hands along Terezi’s ribcage and grubscars, trace careful fingers across the teal-flushed slits at the base of her breasts.

Her breath catches in unison with Karkat’s behind you. She sucks her lower lip between her fangs.

You try that maneuver again, a little more surety in your touch, nudging the feathery edges of skin.

 _Sszzzztt!_ The buzz against your hand sends you jerking back on instinct. Rattlesnake-in-the-rocks response, no brain check-ins required. You bump hard into Karkat and Terezi blinks up at you, a little dazed, a little wide-eyed. The sleepy bee-swarm noise wavers loud-soft, loud-soft, like slightly rapid breathing. Your eyes track down to her chest, where you think you can see the faint vibration of the soft curves and plated tops of her breasts.

So. Definitely weren’t imagining that earlier. Your fingers still feel slighty tingly.

“Strider, what the ever-loving fuck,” Karkat snarls in your ear. “Do you have some kind of pan malfunction?”

“Dude, excuse me for not being prepared for a mid-sexy-times joy-buzzer handshake. This wasn’t covered in the sex ed video. Wrap the banana and butter the monkey, check. Deactivate the boob-bomb not so much. If you’re going to be smuggling chest-maracas in your shirts they ought to require warning labels.”

Terezi hiccups and starts giggling uncontrollably. The buzzing breaks into a series of short rattly hisses.

Karkat just growls. “Oh my fucking god, it’s like being in bed with some dewy-skinned, new-molted adolescent who’s never even touched his own rumblespheres. Should I pat your cheek? Do you need me to hold your hand?”

You give him a dead-fish stare over your shoulder. “Mammal milk,” you say, drawing the words out vindictively. “Glasses and glasses of it. Fresh-squeezed pitchers everywhere.”

“M-may-maybe—“ the buzzes die away completely as Terezi chokes on her laughter “—a _pail-_ full!”

“Holy fuck, you are both disgusting _;_ neither of you touch me.” Karkat proceeds right over his own words, muscling you back down towards Terezi, his hands reaching past you to drag claws up her sides. He’s small but he’s _compact_.

Nerves lick through your chest like electric current. “Okay but, like, walk the human through this, was that a good boob-noise or a bad boob-noise? Are they going to bite me? Because it’s not that I’m opposed to biting _per se_ but I like to have some idea what to expect and _oh—_ ”

Karkat spends a long moment testing the pressure of his teeth in the outer curve of your shoulder. You don’t exactly ask him to hurry. “It _means_ she’s turned _on_ , you grubwit. Warning stridulations are a completely different tonal frequency. It _means_ you have somehow managed not to be a completely inept fuck up at everything you do except obviously this brief flirtation with competence was a cruel illusion because clearly you would rather flap your stupid trap than do anything worthwhile. Color me completely unsurprised that you are too stupidly human to appreciate what is a _natural_ and _beautiful_ part of concupiscatory relations and quadrant intimacy—“

Right, okay, good boob-noise.

…Check.

You think it’s kind of hilarious that Karkat’s the one flaming out into offended defensiveness mode. And by hilarious you mean it makes you want to roll your eyes and elbow him in the side until he stops being ridiculous and okay maybe pet his hair just a little. This rant looks to be gearing up for the long haul, though, full on nerves wordsplosion, and you’d really rather not talk your boner to death. You’re not positioned for any of your preferred maneuvers for this situation but fortunately Terezi remains your best brilliant girl, always three steps ahead of you but right on the same wavelength. She leans in past your shoulder to steal another kiss, mouth closing over his words.

In the spirit of chivalry, you provide full reinforcements for the lady, reaching back to drag your nails down his thighs, hard as you can through the blunting of fabric and humanity. You go for a quick butt squeeze and he wiggles against your ass. It presses you both down. Terezi moves under you, against you, and god she feels perfect, they both feel perfect; they’re hot and cool on either side of you but still a teasing layer of clothing too far away and you think if your dick were any harder it would be pounding its way out of your pants like one of John’s shitty hammers.

(Don’t think about John during sex, jeez.)

Whose idea were pants anyway? Fuck. Your hands wander down, your intent to apply yourself to this problem hazy but sincere. Less pants. There needs to be many less pants.

And then Terezi buzzes, right against your chest, a vibration of sound running right into you, and you jump and ruin it again.

The three of you break apart and it’s like coming up for air, you’re all blinking and gasping and dazed, trying to process.

“Fuck, sorry, sorry.”

Terezi falls back into the pillows. She’s doing something to stop the buzzing, holding her breath, and she makes a questioning, apologetic noise at you. Like maybe great sex is something she needs to apologize for.

You roll up on your elbows beside her. “No, no, we’re cool, I’m cool, everything is comfortably chilled to perfection, keep doing your thing. I got this in the bag.”

Terezi just pinches her eyebrows together, her expression crossed somewhere between doubt and concern. “We can stop,” she says. “If I’m—?” Her voice, still short on air, rings uncertain, and that’s not an emotion that belongs anywhere in the same _room_ as Terezi.

“No, fuck.” You shake your head. “You’re fine. You’re _perfect._ I was just surprised. It felt—” The strange jiggle of her breasts and the cool hiss of air where it really shouldn’t be, the sharper resonance through the plated ridges. The vibrations going right up into you, through you, like an intimate touch. You try again. “It felt, uh.”

Good. It felt good.

Except words abandon you, now, in your hour of need, the fickle beasts, after everything you’ve done for them; and the longer you’re caught tongue-tied the more you’re afraid shows on your face. Terezi’s grin has returned, her tongue flickering along her lips, and the slice of Karkat’s smirk flashes all the blunted points of his teeth. Right, okay, maybe you’ll just pull the sheets up over your head and combust into an ashy pillar of mortification and lust.

Karat slides in closer to Terezi’s other side, rolling to his knees and pushing his way into your space, into hers. “Shove over, Strider. Maybe a god-damned demonstration will shake a few brain cells loose in that cavernous waste you call a pan.” You don’t move aside and he doesn’t really sound angry. Not anymore. His tone fuzzes and drops as he speaks, becoming something low-pitched and breathless and a little raspy. The smug line of his teeth flashes again.

You watch his hands, suddenly feeling a little breathless yourself.

“What a good idea, Mr. Cherrypop!” Terezi’s arms snake out.

You jump, but you’re not the target this time.

The noise Karkat makes as he goes over backwards is really _very_ rewarding.

There’s a brief flurry of motion, and then Terezi’s got him pinned beneath her, back flat to the mattress. She licks down his throat and his hands twitch weakly into the sheets, movement without direction. Terezi tosses a grin over her shoulder. “Are you ready for your lesson, Dave?”

“Riveted, Teach.”

Karkat makes a little noise, too breathy to be a snarl. Terezi hums and sucks on his collarbone. She licks her way down his chest, to where he does indeed have something a little like Terezi’s set up, but flatter. Plated pectorals, with a finger’s width of lift and soft-edged red slits curved beneath them.

“Pay attention, because this is very important.” She nips at the plating; runs a claw along it, grins at you.

If you pay attention any harder you are going to be bankrupting small planetary economies.

“Stridulation shingles,” she declares, skipping her claw down the chitin. “Supplementary book lungs, amplification bladders, respiration slits.”

“Great, we’ve devolved into a fucking anatomy schoolfeed,” Karkat says. “Would you two nookfondlers like a gold sta-a-aahhh…”

Terezi smiles up along his chest, all fangs and glitter and hungry amusement. She licks a second time along that soft lower curve of his pecs, and the flushing red slice below. Karkat’s breath stutters out in ragged gasps, his eyes pressing closed hard.

"Of course,” Terezi says, and has to clear a hoarse burr from her throat before she can recover her mock-school-teacher tone, “these are only vestigial rumblespheres, so he won’t really make much noise.”

You let your head tilt ironically. (His face, oh.) “Kinda doubt that.”

“Oh, f-fuck you, Strider,” Karkat says, and Terezi snickers into his chest and tweaks a grub scar to make him jump. Her dark hair fans out across his skin and she teases him with her tongue and her fingers and her teeth and Karkat arches and shivers and goes all shuddery soft beneath her. He bites his lip.

Okay, time for this to be a hands-on lesson, right now, no more patient student-voyeur-Dave, you are jumping in with the arts and crafts and multimedia right here because you have to touch them, you have to. You have to press a kiss into her shoulder, press a hand in the divot of his chest to feel the strange, barely-there thrum, the helpless little gusts of air. Experimentally, you press him harder into the bed, watch his eyes flutter and his claws clutch at the sheets. Terezi croons at him, encouraging.

Wow. Okay.

You’re talking before you know it, mouth running on autopilot, swept away by the heady rush of lust and nerves and _need_.

“—so, hey, can I take your pants off, can I take _my_ pants off, can I get my dick involved in this, like, right now, can we do that, pretty please, sugar and sprinkles on top, or, hey, me, I could be on top, we could do that, we could—“

Karkat growls and grabs a handful of your hair, yanking you down to stick his tongue in your mouth. You make a muffled, reproachful noise, just on principle.  You can’t really be offended because he kisses like a hungry thunderstorm and his fingers are at your waist, working on your fly.

Terezi ambushes you from the side, laughing and wrapping around you like an octopus, rubbing her grin right up under your jawline. “Hey, Dave.”

You break the kiss to look at her with mild alarm.

She huffs in a breath, puff-cheeked. Then she _buzzes_ , right against you.

You shriek and laugh and she does it again, like blowing a raspberry but _with her boobs,_ and Karkat hangs on while you flail at them and you wind up on the bottom of a pile of trolls. Cheaters.

You glare dazedly up and find two faces grinning down at you, smug and alien and strange and familiar and... _yours_. 

You are, you reflect, in way over your head.

It's fucking awesome.

**Author's Note:**

> *writes porn in which nobody manages to get their pants off* ...have I mastered this medium yet?
> 
> ps: Yes, this anatomy canon would imply that the Dolorosa hissed at John with her boobs. Discuss.


End file.
